


Pinteresting

by alpacamyhedgehog



Category: Forever (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Dates, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-13 01:32:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3362825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alpacamyhedgehog/pseuds/alpacamyhedgehog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bit of Mortinez fluff. Yes, it’s a first date. Don’t get too excited. :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pinteresting

Jo Martinez rushes into the morgue and stops dead in her tracks when she reaches Henry’s office. In the glass wall of Henry’s office, her reflection confronts her like a haggard ghost. She hasn’t been sleeping well—again. She thought she’d finally gotten over the insomnia that had plagued her after her husband’s death, but it had reappeared about a month ago. And it shows. Her face is chalky, the shadows under her eyes nearly as dark as her runaway eyeliner. And—

“My hair!” she gasps, instinctively reaching a hand up to smooth the halo of tangled wisps that surround her head. She’s just gotten back from tailing a suspect, and she realizes that between the early November wind and her brisk walk to keep up with her suspect, the new hairstyle had been doomed to failure. She silently curses herself for choosing to do something different, for caring too much.

Suddenly, she notices that Henry’s office door is open, that he’s looking up at her expectantly from some paperwork. How long had she been standing there? She was supposed to discuss some details of the case with him, but she knows she can’t focus on the case when she knows that her already-disheveled updo could collapse at any moment.

“Hang on, Henry—I just need—″ she pants, still out of breath from the chase, “—one minute.”

He nods, and she rushes away to the ladies’ room.

Crap. How did she ever think this was a good idea? She knew you couldn’t trust everything you found on the internet, but who knew that a simple hair tutorial could go so wrong?

It had all started with that stupid Pinterest site. She had gone out for coffee with some of her college girlfriends weeks ago and heard them talking about the DIY projects they had pinned to their boards and couldn’t wait to try. When they found out that she’d never even heard of the site, her friends had pestered her into setting up an account. She had laughed at it at first, but when she got home, she decided to give it another try. What else was there to do?

After setting up a few boards and scrolling through her friends’ pins, Jo had suddenly realized that hours had slipped away. She hadn’t even noticed how quiet the house was. Sure, she knew she could never afford all of the clothes she pinned on her wardrobe board, and she sure as heck wasn’t going to make any of this food, but, hey, it never hurt to look. And it was looking that kept her distracted. It was a good way to pass the time, a good way to forget she was alone in an empty apartment.

Eventually, between spending most of her time at work and staying up late on Pinterest, she forgot that hollow space in her life more and more. Well, maybe forgot wasn’t the right word. She certainly felt less, not that she grew numb to the fact that she would never spend another evening with her husband, but the pain lessened. For a few hours each night, she could feel—normal. For a while, the calming effect of scrolling through glossy pictures of dream clothes, dream houses, and dream vacations even helped her get to sleep. And then she stopped sleeping again.

Maybe it had been the lack of sleep that convinced her it would be a good idea to try one of the hair tutorials she had found, or maybe she just spent way too much time on Pinterest. Or—something else. In any case, last night she had decided to replicate one of her favorite pins, an elegant dutch braid that swirled into a chignon. It had seemed so easy that she tried it again this morning. But somehow, what had seemed simple after dinner and coffee had turned into a mess in the bleary-eyed haze of 6 a.m. When she had finally managed to make the hairstyle look halfway decent, she realized she was going to be late to work.

“Whatever,” she had groaned in frustration. It would have to do.

Now inspects her hair in the mirror with a scowl. It’s salvageable, she supposes, if she can tuck in some of these loose strands. She scavenges around in her purse for extra bobby pins. This is so weird. She hasn’t cared about her hair so much since—no. She isn’t going to think about it. What she could really use right now is—

“Hairspray?”

Jo starts. Standing at the sink on her left is a middle-aged woman holding out a tall aerosol can.

“Oh my gosh,” Jo responds, turning toward the woman. “That would be great, if you don’t mind waiting while I—“

“Of course not, honey. No rush.”

Jo returns to the mirror and hurriedly tucks each stray tendril into place. She’s finishing the last piece, her mouth still full of bobby pins, when she realizes that the woman has been studying her.

“So…new boyfriend?” the woman asks.

“Uhm,” Jo grunts, desperately trying to avoid swallowing the pins. “Uh-uh.” Nope. Nope. Nope. Not going there. She finishes, pulls the pins out of her mouth, and begins spraying hairspray. “Actually, this is something I found on Pinterest. I decided to give it a go, but apparently that wasn’t the greatest idea.

The woman laughs. “Oh, tell me about it! I tried to make a muffin recipe I found on there last week, and would you believe it? They were harder than rocks.”

Jo wouldn’t believe it, but she nods politely and returns the hairspray.

“Good luck, honey,” the woman tells her when they exit the bathroom.

Jo makes her way back to Henry’s office. He’s still at his desk, and when she walks in, he glances up absentmindedly.

When he says, “Oh, you’re back already,” Jo is relieved he hasn’t noticed that she had been gone for several minutes. But if he hardly noticed that she was gone, maybe he wouldn’t notice—nope. She was so not going there.

He clears some papers off his desk before looking back at her expectantly. His gaze softens, the corners of his mouth turn up so slightly, and she can tell that he does notice. Of course. Henry notices everything.

Feeling conspicuous and flustered, Jo quickly begins talking about the case. Gradually, the heat that had seared through her face when he looked at her begins to cool, and she forgets about her sleepless nights, her stupid hairstyle, and even Henry’s attentive glance. She’s consumed in the intricacies of the case and her friend’s brilliant mind.

By the time they’re finished, she realizes that a tendril of hair has escaped the grasp of pins and hairspray and is grazing her cheek. She grows self-conscious once more, and when she tries to brush the strand away, she fumbles.

Henry is looking at her again. “Please—?” he says, reaching toward her, hesitating.

“Um.” She nods.

He reaches out and gently brushes the hair behind her ear.

She can feel herself blushing again, and her skin tingles where his fingertips had been. Ok. Time to get the hell out of here before you embarrass yourself, she thinks.

She rises abruptly. “Well,” she says, her voice sharper and louder than she intended, “I think that’s all I wanted to discuss. I’ll see you on Monday, then.”

The soft expression vanishes from his eyes, and, for a split second, she thinks he looks disappointed—but his face is hard to read sometimes, and she doesn’t want to assume too much.

She’s almost out the door by the time he stops her.

“Wait. I was wondering if you had plans for tonight.”

“Yeah, I have a wild Friday night planned. I’ll probably order a pizza and watch Netflix until 3 a.m.” She can’t help smirking when he gags at the mention of pizza.

He recovers quickly and smiles at her sarcasm. “No, you won’t. I mean—what I meant to ask was—“  
he hesitates again. “Well, it’s almost time for dinner, and since we’re finished with work here, I was wondering if you’d like to join me for an evening out.” He exhales deeply.

“Henry Morgan, are you asking me out?” she asks before she can stop herself.

“Well, if you want to call it that…yes.”

“Well, since you put it that way, I suppose pizza and Netflix can wait another night.” What did she just say? What’s happening?

In what seems like seconds, Henry and Jo collect their respective belongings, hail a taxi, and arrive at a tiny Italian restaurant in a street Jo has never visited before. As they step into the restaurant, she spares a moment to be grateful that Henry has somehow chosen a place where her husband had never taken her. It takes her longer than usual to take in the atmosphere of the place: the aromas of herbs and sauces, the crisp white of tablecloths and napkins softened by ambient lighting, the other diners in their evening attire. She suddenly seems out of place in her work clothes and Pinterest hairdo. And then…

“Henry,” she hisses, almost jabbing him in the side with her elbow. “This is the kind of place that takes reservations!”

“Don’t worry. We have reservations.”

“You’ve been planning this!”

He grins. “I have—for a while, actually. I was just waiting to see if you would want to come. I wasn’t sure.”

“You should have told me. I could have worn something different.”

“You look perfect.” He smiles again when he looks at her, his gaze soft.

She realizes that he probably hadn’t thought of telling her ahead of time, and she knows her clothes make her stand out, but she doesn’t care. She doesn’t mind being flattered a little tonight.

The evening progresses well. Henry and Jo quickly lose their awkwardness, and they begin laughing and teasing each other like old friends instead of a couple on their first date. Jo doesn’t think she’s ever seen Henry this relaxed. Come to think of it, she can’t remember the last time she’s felt so at ease with another person, either.

After a lull in the conversation she says, “You know, it’s funny. I thought I’d been to every restaurant in this part of the city, but I’ve never been here before. How did you find this place?”

“Well, when you’ve lived here as long as I have, you learn your way around.”

“How long have you been in New York? I mean, I grew up here, and you can’t be that much older than I am. And don’t tell me it’s a long story,” she adds when she saw him open his mouth. “I really want to know, and I don’t care how long it is.”

“It is a long story, but since you insist, I’ll tell you the truth.”

He’s about to speak again when her phone rings. She answers it, then hangs up quickly.

“We need to go,” she says, her voice strained with adrenaline. “They’ve found another body.”

“See, this is why I don’t carry one of those things around,” he jokes, gesturing toward the phone in her hand.

“Well, before we leave, you need to promise me that we’ll continue this conversation later.”

“Are you asking for a second date, Detective Martinez?”

“I’m asking you to tell me your story. I want to know about your life!”

“My schedule is free next Friday. Would that work for you?”

As they head for the door of the restaurant, she slips her hand in his. “Sure. Next Friday would be fine.”

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my Tumblr page: http://alpacamyhedgehog.tumblr.com/post/101729555780/pinteresting
> 
> I am the original author, and all rights to this fic belong to me.


End file.
